


Earth

by Kangoo



Series: LGBT Destiny Month 2019 [22]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-typical Undeath, Coping Mechanisms Of Varying Healthiness, Gen, It's actually not that angsty, LGBT Destiny Month, Nonbinary Character, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 17:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangoo/pseuds/Kangoo
Summary: Occam remembers digging themself out of their own grave





	Earth

**Author's Note:**

> so we can agree that constantly dying and coming back to life is fucked up right?
> 
> occam is officially my plant symbolism oc. hell yeah

Occam remembers digging themself out of their own grave.

It's not a fond memory. It sits heavy in their mind, like the weight of six feet of dirt on top of a rotting casket. The taste of soil in their mouth, the feel of it sticking to their skin, filling their lungs. Wet earth breaking under broken nails. Suffocating.

Some nights they wake up with aching arms and a burning throat, coughing dirt that does not exist. They throw their covers off, scramble out of bed, hang out of their window gasping chilled air until the pressure in their chest recedes.

Those nights are spent bent over lists scratches into scrap paper, careful plans and threats ranked from most to least likely to bury them, alive or dead. Escape routes. Maps of their safe houses all over the system. Lists of every piece of blackmail they own, who to send it to to get safe passage somewhere far away from any danger.

Then dawn breaks. The papers go back to their hiding place, carefully folded and tucked in a locked drawer. They know every word by heart but it doesn't hurt to have backup, just in case.

They move on with their day. They do their best to forget.

When the memories come before sleep, keep them from it, when they toss and turn in bed and the sheets feel too dark, too heavy to be fabric, they turn to gardening.

They sink their hands into dirt that gives easily under their hands and remind themself of things that live and grow and dig themselves _in_ , not out. Spends hours pruning plants, watering them, until the memory is a dull ache behind their eyes and they can breathe in the smell of soil without their heart missing a bit. Then they wash the dirt stuck under their fingernails, always hoping the memories would disappear down the drain the way dirty water does.

And then they go to sleep. Refuse to think about how close it feels to dying. Refuse to think about dying. Refuse to die.

Plants are a coping mechanism, a poor attempt at exposure therapy. They're also the only thing Occam has the power to keep alive. Pets have a life expectancy, Guardians risk theirs on a daily basis. Plants don't go anywhere and they'll survive for as long as they keep tending to them.

(Plants are the only thing that won't, _can't_ , leave them. They would find it pathetic if they ever took the time to think about it. Good thing they don't.)

No one else gets it, mostly because they don't bother explaining it.

They're pretty sure the Drifter knows about it anyway, though. Or he guessed something close.

"I died 'bout a hundred times, starving to death," he mentions almost offhandedly in the dead quiet of night.

He's eating the food Occam brought him but there's Hive meat packed in his fridge, just in case Occam wouldn't come tonight.

Occam sees it as an opening, an offer to share, and takes it. "I dug myself out of my grave," they say, throwing another handful of soil in the rusted helmet they're using as a flowerpot.

There's a dirty mug next to them on the ground, a pale pink flower with all its roots poking out of it. Gift from the Drifter. It looks kind of like an eglantine rose: whether it's that or some weird, man-eating Fallen flower remains to be seen.

Drifter barks out a harsh laugh. " _Lightbearers_ ," he says, the way someone would say _that's so fucked up_.

"Yeah," Occam replies, and digs his fingers in the dirt.

**Author's Note:**

> eglantine rose - a wound to heal


End file.
